


Sam Is

by AnotherWriterWhoWrites



Series: 2015 Wincestmas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12 Days of Wincestmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:25:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5837959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWriterWhoWrites/pseuds/AnotherWriterWhoWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is four years old when he decides that Dean is the best person in the whole wide world and even into outer space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam Is

Sam is four years old when he decides that Dean is the best person in the whole wide world and even into outer space.

He’s sure that there isn’t any other older brother that gives up the last bowl of Lucky Charms or lets him stay up past his bedtime and always, always, has time to play with him and never leaves him to play with the older kids.

Sam grins up at Dean and feels his heart give a small and weird strum in his chest when Dean grinned back and ruffled his hair.  
——————  
Sam is five years old when he realizes that he is in love with his big brother. 

He’s done his research and he did the homework. People who were always together and taking care of one another and always looking out for one another, although the last bit was kinda all Dean at that moment (“Most important?” “Watch out for Sammy.”), 

And so with all the righteousness and assurance of his five year old knowledge he proclaimed at the dinner table that night that when he and Dean were going to get older they were going to get married. 

It wasn’t until later, when he’s just a bit older, that he realized why their dad had choked on his food and Dean had stared at him incredulously.   
——————  
Sam is twelve years old when he has his first wet dream and realizes just what his dick is for.

He’s writhing on the sheets with the blanket tangling in between his legs as hot and heavy flashes of freckles and green eyes play behind his closed eyes. A heavy and comforting touch and a soothing voice, both familiar to a point where he couldn’t tell where the pleasure stopped and pain began.

He wakes up with a gasp with stained sheets, stained boxers, drenched in sweat, and his brother’s name on his lips.  
——————  
Sam is fourteen years old when he finally gathers all the courage he had and kissed his brother on the lips. 

Its sloppy, he had caught Dean when he had been turning slightly to face him, their noses are all but smooshed together, and their teeth had clanged against one another’s.

It was perfect, the somehow still working part of his brain managed to think.

It became less than perfect when Dean came out of his frozen stupor with a snap and jumps back as far as he could, one hand reaches up to wipe at his lips and the other is reaching for the holy water. 

“It’s me.” he insists, one hand already reaching out for Dean again. “I’m not possessed or something, its me.”

Dean wordlessly shakes his head, one hand still wiping at his mouth before he turns in place and all but runs out the door, forgoing even his jacket despite the low temperature outside.

Later that night when he comes back, smelling of alcohol and perfume Sam lays curled up in his bed and tries to ignore how his heart twists in his chest.  
——————  
Sam is sixteen years old when he tries to talk to Dean about it again, and only getting grunts and scowls instead. 

“Cut it off.” he snaps at Sam. “You’re not a kid anymore, you know this ain’t right.”

Sam flinches and by the look on Dean’s face he’s realized that yes, Sam does know and yes, he doesn’t care.

“Sammy, kiddo.” Dean sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “I can’t do…I can’t be that for you.” He’s trying so hard to say it gently but all Sam can hear is the cracking of his heart.

“You deserve…you deserve something better, something…not as fucked up as this. You’ll get over it, I promise.”

“Been feeling like this since I was a kid Dean.” Sam whispers, watching Dean eyes go wide. “If it hasn’t faded by now it never will.”  
——————  
Sam is eighteen years old when he hears the ultimatum. 

“You walk out that door you never come back!”

He begs Dean to come with him, pleads with him, tries to make him see how much happier they would be together, just the two of them, away from their dad.

“We could be happy.” he argues. His voice softened and he reaches out to take Deans hand in his gently. “We could be together.”

Those seem to be the words that snap Dean out of whatever trance he had been in because he pulls his hand back so fast that Sam’s surprised there wasn’t an imprint left in the air.

“Go.” he says. “Go. Find a girl, or a guy; I don’t care which, and live a normal life Sam.”  
——————  
Sam is twenty years old when he is introduced to Jessica Moore by their friend. 

He sees green eyes and blonde hair and a smile a mile wide with an open and kind heart and he falls before he even realizes it. 

Even the birthdays match up somehow. 

And if there are moments he feels guilty he pushes it down and reminds himself that this is what Dean had wanted and told him to do. 

Even if it meant he was breaking into pieces inside.  
——————  
Sam is twenty two years old when he is started out of a dreamless sleep in the middle of the night. Jess is still asleep next to him and he moves carefully, not wanting to disturb her and hoping that he had either imagined the noise or it was something else. 

When he heard the clear squeaking of the floor planes again he slid out of the bed and padded down the hallway, pressing to the wall and calming his suddenly racing heart. 

It took a moment for the intruder to walk past him and he leaped at him, trying his best to fight back even as a part of him relaxed.

“Whoa, easy tiger!” came the familiar, heartbreaking, happy, and downright captivating voice. It was almost as if he hadn’t ever left and they had seen each other just mere moments ago from how quickly his body relaxed and reacted to having his brother on top of him.

“Dean?”  
——————  
Sam is turning twenty three when he limps to Dean clutching one arm to his side and still so very happy and relieved at seeing his brother coming towards him. “Dean.” he whispered, his voice lost to the wind, almost like a breath. 

A breath that came out ragged and pained when he suddenly felt the pain erupt in his spine and back, the nerves and sensors immediately snapping the connection to his legs making them useless as he falls to the ground.

He is barely aware of arms around him, a familiar hand cradling his face, he can hear the words; hear the tone and desperation and pleading in them, but he just couldn’t make out what was being said. 

His hearing and senses disappear in a rush of darkness but not before he could hear one last desperate, sob ridden, and desperate cry. 

“SAM!”  
——————  
Sam is twenty four years old and is staring in horror at his brothers still and dead body on the ground, ripped apart by hellhounds and unseeing eyes still staring up at the ceiling. Falling to his knees he reaches out reverently to lightly touch Dean’s arm, snapping his arm back as if he had been bitten when he realizes just how fast the body is starting to cool.

His fingers are shaking as they reach out to touch Dean’s face once more and his face crumbles when the notion, the truth, finally hits him. His chest is almost bursting in pain and he doesn’t understand how he could still be alive through the hurt and suffering.

After carrying the bo-Dea-after carrying and reaching the car and reaching an empty field he digs the grav-the hole with his hands, needing some sort of distraction from the pain in his heart and chest. 

Dimly he wondered if this is how it felt to die from heartbreak. 

It hurts more than when he had gotten stabbed in the spine.   
——————  
Sam is twenty five years old and he has a stomach filled with demon blood and is staring at the ceiling of the motel room he was in, lying on the bed and the warmth of Ruby’s vessel curled up to his side. 

It’s easy to ignore her whispers, how proud she is of him and how far he’s gone and how much she has faith in him. 

He entertains the idea of those same words said in a deeper voice, filled with love and joy, green eyes sparkling with love as they stared at him. 

Never the kind of love that he wanted but he’ll take it all the same, anything was better than nothing. 

Than this.   
——————  
Sam is still twenty five years old when he releases Lucifer, and it was an accident he swore he didn’t know, had no idea, she tricked him and he didn’t know, he’s so sorry. 

There is light filling the room to a point that he could almost start to feel his skin prickle at the heat.

As always he turns his head to the side to see his brother almost enthralled by the light but ever in tuned to Sam, even now; even after everything, he turns to face Sam.

It doesn’t take much to realize that if this is where everything ends and they die now because of Sam’s stupid and selfish mistake there is no other sight he’d rather have the last of than of his brother.  
——————  
Sam is twenty six years old when Dean tells him to pick a hemisphere and stick to it, ending the phone call then and there and ignoring Sam’s pleas and begging. 

He is twenty five when Dean throws out the amulet, letting it hover over the trashcan for a few extra seconds to make sure Sam’s eyes are on it before he lets go and lets it fall into the trash. He flinches at the sound of metal hitting plastic and tries to tell himself that it doesn’t hurt as bad as he thinks it does. 

However that doesn’t stop him from immediately leaping forward and yanking the necklace out of the trashcan and placing it in the left breast pocket on his jacket.

He is still twenty five when he finds himself in Bobby’s panic room once more clutching the amulet in his hand so hard that it’s leaving imprints in the skin. 

He is still twenty five and the night before he goes to say yes to Lucifer he and Dean are sitting side by side and drinking beer in stoic silence, there wasn’t anything for either of them to say.

Somewhere in between his first and only beer and in between Deans third and fourth beer his brother reached out to him and with soft and tender fingers; a touch he hadn’t felt in months and had missed more than seeing the amulet on Deans neck, turned his face to him. 

Dean’s eyes are clouded over in grief as they stare at one another and so slowly Sam barely realizes that he moves until Dean was suddenly right in front of him and delicately pressing his lips to Sam’s. 

It’s everything he’s ever wanted and it hurts to such a point that it has taken him saying yes to Lucifer that Dean had decided to do this for whatever reason. 

Shaking his head he pulls away, ducking his eyes to not see the confused look on Dean’s face. 

“Want it to be real.” he mumbled as a way of explanation as he turns his body and head back to the front. “Don’t want it because I’m going to be in the Cage.”

It takes everything he has not to start sobbing right there.  
——————  
Sam is twenty seven years old by earth years and who knows how many hell years old. 

He also doesn’t have a soul and as such he still doesn’t feel a thing and sees no reason to keep secrets anymore once he and Dean are back on the road together for good. 

“It’s never been about fucking you in case you were wondering.”

“Knew it ever since I was a kid, didn’t know what to call it back then but I still knew.”

“It was always you no matter what.”

Dean would always grunt and scowl and glare at Sam who easily stared back at him, not bothered anymore by any of it like he would have been before. 

“So you never? Never even considered it or whatever?” he asks, not out of curiosity because he doesn’t have that anymore but it was something he had wanted to know back then, he likes information and gathering it still.

Dean doesn’t rebut it or deny it or does a single thing that Sam has come to expect from him if he had ever been able to ask the question.

Dean just hesitated, opened and closed his mouth a few times, cleared his throat, and focused on the television once more, a look of despair and anguish clear on his face.  
——————  
Sam is reborn as twenty seven years old and wakes up in Bobby’s panic room again and it takes him more than a few minutes to gather everything together to try to figure out what he was doing there. It was almost like putting together a puzzle and he was always good at those. 

He gets up on surprisingly steady legs and walks out of the unlocked room and follows 

He’s also not sure who is more surprised, him or Bobby or maybe even Dean, when his brother all but ran to him, hugged him as tight as possible and to the point that Sam couldn’t breathe for a moment, before cupping Sam’s face in his hands and kissing him.  
——————  
Sam is twenty seven years old still. 

“You know me. You know why. I’m not leaving my brother alone out there.”  
——————  
Sam is twenty eight years old when he is standing in an empty room after a bright light had come and gone. 

He’s left alone and Dean vanished in midair. 

The rest is a blur of books and Crowley and trying vainly to find the answer and in the end hoping that Dean is in heaven and is at rest. 

And in the end he gets into the impala, so very empty and hollow in a way he’ll never be able to explain. 

And in the end he sits in the driver’s seat, and it’s so wrong that he’s sitting there, he is made for the passenger seat, for so long his bottom half has gone numb.

And in the end he finally turns the car on, even the engine sounds strained to his ears, and started to drive. 

In the end, he was just searching for a cliff or a bridge.

But then…

…he hit a dog.  
——————  
Sam is twenty nine years old when he is in the middle of a church with a bloodied palm pressed to Crowley’s lips, the Latin rolling off of his tongue almost automatically and instinct even as he’s dying. 

It’s almost not even a surprise when Dean comes crashing through the doors, with a cry of “Sammy, stop!” and Sam does what he almost does and listens to Dean, his limbs and head jerking to look at his brother.

He can’t really remember whatever he said or anything from one moment to the next, the trails had burned more than just his insides up in their wake. 

“Don’t you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It has never been like that, ever!”

But he’ll always remember Dean smiling at him, tenderly and lovingly, the bandanna wrapping around his palm, and those soft words. 

“Hey, listen, we will figure it out, okay, just like we always do.”

A part of his mind came back to life at that moment and he wanted to tell Dean, Dean who always laughed at his obscure facts and knowledge, that in some customs and religions of the world when two people were in a house of worship and talking about devotion to one another, tying a cloth around the other, that was a marriage ceremony.

But then he felt a fire flare up inside of him and he collapsed, knowing that Dean was going to catch him before he fell like he always did, and everything else faded around him.  
——————  
Sam is thirty years old and tired and worn out and his back is hurting him, almost as if he had pulled a muscle or two, the sensation similar to how he felt sometimes after carrying something too heavy for too long. 

He’s barely on his feet, wanting nothing more than to go to the room he had claimed and go to sleep for a long time. 

Dean’s hand on his arm stops him as usual, turning in place to look at his brother in question. 

There is still hesitance and there is still apprehension that Sam had grown familiar with seeing whenever Dean was trying to build up the courage to kiss him. 

He manages a small smile, turning more to Dean. “You don’t have to,” he starts to say. “Dean, I don’t need it like this, I’m okay with us not-”

Whatever were the rest of the words he was going to say were suddenly unimportant because when Dean kisses him, it’s just like it always is and as always it wipes his mind clean. 

The difference, however, was that this time Dean wasn’t letting go. 

He was pulling him closer and to the side.

He was pulled into Dean’s room, falling together onto his bed. 

And not getting out.  
——————  
Sam is thirty years old when he is cradling Deans face in his hands with tears running down his face, desperate and in disbelief. 

“I’m proud of us.”  
——————  
Sam is thirty one years old and his brother is chained to a chair snarling and sneering and shouting at him.

“Don’t you realize how sick you are? Well I’m sick too, sick and tired of playing to your whim and your abomination behavior, one after the other!”

“Incest is a sin Sammy, wonder how many years on the rack you’re going to get for it.”

“You think I ever wanted it?” was sneered. “Well you’re wrong, not the first time either. I never wanted it.”

The screams from the blood were almost soothing after everything else was said.  
——————  
Sam is thirty one and kneeling on the ground, staring up pleadingly and more than ready to put his life in the hands of the one person he could trust over anyone else. 

“Sammy close your eyes.”  
——————  
Sam is thirty two years old and he’s in the cage once more.

He is scared and terrified and clinging to the one rational thought he had left inside of him that Lucifer couldn’t take away regardless of how much he would try to dig into Sam to peel it out.

Dean is going to get him out, he knows it.  
——————  
Sam is thirty four years old when he realizes for the first time in a long time that he is more than satisfied with his life and how things have turned out to be. 

Almost…content if he dare say it.

Dean is still asleep beside him, the sheets hanging low on his waist, nothing but sheet and skin contact with nothing in between. Sam gave a smile and leaned back in the bed, curling up close to his brother, relishing the feel of skin on skin and relaxed as he fell back asleep.  
——————  
Sam is thirty five years old when Dean finally slides the ring on his finger.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Supernatural.


End file.
